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Jane Journeys On

Chapter 4 No.4

Word Count: 3246    |    Released on: 06/12/2017

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etch act, so they cast "One Crowded Hour

of "Oh, You Kewpie-Kid!" (in the chorus) and frankly contemptuous of this r?le. And The Man-the bandit-a fair-haired canary, an inch shorter than she is! They quarrel like fishwives and scold about the number of "sides" each other has, and refuse to play up prettily, and I'm heartsick over it all, Sally. Th

d squeal with rage. "Listen, girlie," she cooes, "don't you worry about

the King in between the Black-faced Comedian and the Elephant Act. I suppose I must just bear it, grin

o read. The stage business is much funnier than the dialogue. After a melting m

ar

a

es

r S

the dirt under his feet!" The brother of Brother, a lean, clean-looking chap, lounges about at rehearsals and comforts me vastly with his under-the-breath comments on them. She has worked up the bit before The Man arrives, when she is pretending,

m? Well, he has kept talking about the glorious privilege of doing really good work and leavening the lump, and of how the public really wants the best, only the managers haven't fa

But I've got to get my foothold. You can't be high-brow in the two-a-day, it

calling it 'putting it u

ross lette

n't even tell him when or

day N

an alien interpretation to everything. How I hated the audience for roaring at her common comedy! They howled with delight when she pushed Brother over, and the coyote lope got

ay, girlie, didn't I tell y

they have to have a sketch. We play two more performances downtown and then rehearse day and night to smooth over the rough

de

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a regular story-book demon, so I fed her up and brought her home and coaxed Mrs. Hills to put a cot in my room for her. Her Burne-Jones jaw is sharper

y. Terrific rehearsing star

st

a

y Mor

est

day. Brother and his brother were waiting.

you." Then, turning to him, she said, compassionatel

ell chance to go on tour with 'Kiss and Tell,' and she feels like she hadn't

myself, slowly,

girl who is a quick study and can get u

y gasp she went on, confidentially, linking her arm in mine. "Yes, dearie. You see, it's like this. I gotter

r. I almost thought he was going to cry, and h

on't keep doing that! We

t. I thought if we got good bookings, why, I'd be fixed to take a good long rest, afterwards,-out on the desert or up in the snow. It isn't bad, yet.

iracle that could save us, in that breathlessly short time, but I have a

don't think that fellow ever had your idea of it. Look,-the part where The Hawk tells her what a rotten deal he's always had, isn't this how you meant it?"-and he dropped into a chair, took a knee between his brown, lean hands, loo

in my joy. "You can hav

as worrying. "We ought to get one, eas

omedy and the dance,

ere are now. All she's got to do is walk through,-it's actress proof, that

was I going to "put it under." I told them to wait. I taxied opulently home. My waif was curled up in

l tint, but the hollows in her cheeks filled up with pink excitement as I talked. When I marched in with her the men gave her one look, grinned, and heaved gusty sighs of relief. We rehearsed all day and half the night. We haven't told the office a wo

n weary

y. 3.

ter a rub and a cup of hot milk and she is to sleep until noon. Brother's brother tried pitifully, but he didn't get through a single speech without prompting. I'm terrified! Suppose they muddle it utterly, what will the P

a

y Mid

nt in the sun. I held happy converse with democratic dogs and reserved and haughty babies and dawdled, but even so I found myself with a panicky margin of time on my hands. Then I bethought myself of my never-failing remedy for troublesome thoughts and I went joyously forth like a he-goat on the mountains and bought a ruinous pair of proud shoes and put them on. I knew the g

y haul me rou

t me up t

e to steer

e me eve

eye over the set. A grimy young stagehand made a minor change for me with a languid, not unkind contempt. "What's the big idea?" he wanted to know. "Goner slip 'em some high-brow stuff? Say, this is the wrong pew, sister. They won't stand for nothing like that here. Up in the Bronx, maybe-" I turned and basely fled. I went out in front and found my place. The orchestra rollicked through the overture and people p

lugged away, firing their tragic comedy, making brave capital even of the silences, but through my glasses I was sure I could see the strained anxiety of their eyes. It was a relief to have them go. Then the

were Z in

ersationally, "they tell me they're easier than any other animal

to Michael Daragh and the pretty girls and the fat old lady in front of me. Nice pe

Cupid and the house rocked with welcome. I was cold with conjecture. What had happened back there? Had my poor starveling fainted again? Had Broth

ays o

ghts wer

r sewing. From far aloft came that loud guffaw that speaks the vacant mind and one of the pretty girls next me giggled in echo. Then something seemed to go through my waif; the Burne-Jones jaw was taut; she got hold of herself; then, slowly, steadily, surely, little by little, she got hold of the house. The man on the end who had slouched com

front lifted a frank handkerchief; the giggling girls were raptly watching. Now the Girl's big moment came. Her

oor, she was a fury, pitiless, obsessed. All the starved romance, all the pinched poverty of her life, all the lea

reality laid hold on her again. Her thin hands went together on her breast and then fell slackly to her sides. She seemed visibl

e, past the benediction of Michael Daragh's lifted look. The applause followed me out through the lobby-oh, Sally dear, no choir invi

aos of props and people-and it was an ugly land of disillusion no longer but the land of heart's desire, Sally-I found my

re head to say very humbly, "Woman, dear, I'm so high with pride fo

front of me with an armful of the Tramp Ju

r there, sister! Say, I guess maybe that's poor?

ila

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